This is just a one-shot. No follow-ups. While I'm not exactly tired of my usual formula, I did want to try something different. Don't expect from this story what you may usually expect from me. Any emailed feedback is appreciated, especially as this story is different from my usual fare.
Also, you are not allowed to touch your dick while reading this. Only one dick matters while you are at the professor's house, and it is not yours.
Visiting Professor
It was with suppressed excitement that I knocked on Professor Erling's door.
He opened it wide, a smile on the corner of his lips. His tall, broad shouldered frame moved just slightly to the side, creating a small space for me to enter.
"I admire punctuality," he said.
I tried to smile back, but I could feel it come out as a thin tremor. I squeezed in past him, wanting body contact but avoiding it.
The door closed behind me.
His house was immaculate. Stark without being austere. A large, many spined ebony carving adorned one wall. The couches were black, the carpets and walls were all white. One green plant. One blue bowl filled with lemons on the countertop. Everything just so perfectly placed.
POP
The sound of the wine bottle uncorking caught me off-guard. I must've jumped because Professor Erling looked amused.
"Drink, Professor Sherman?" he asked, waving two wine glasses. "Or do you wish to jump right into the discussion of Fourier's Heat Law," he added with a sarcastic drawl.
I gulped only to find my mouth was dry.
"Drink would be great," I rasped, then cleared my throat.
We both had meetings in our calendars for the upcoming week to discuss complex math problems. Tonight was supposed to be a social thing, just to get to know each other outside of the university setting.
But I could not deny that I wanted more. No, not math. I wanted to learn if there was truth to certain rumours that floated around in certain specific group chats.
He handed me the wine. We both sat down on orthogonal couches. I began to sip.
"It's a lovely place," I said. "Beautiful and sev- serious."
He gestured a curt wave with his fingers.
"You can say severe," he said. "That is an acceptable compliment, in my books. Though I would use the word - disciplined."
A shiver of excitement ran down my spine. I kept my breathing even.
"You look to be plenty disciplined yourself," I said boldly. "Not all math professors bring back the same level of discipline that they apply at work to maintaining their ... bodies."
Even though his light blue shirt was not too tight, I could see his massive pecs firm up from the compliment. His face, however, remained impassive.
He replied, "I have seen what happens to those who surrender too quickly to the ravages of time and senescence. And I am only in my mid-forties." He ran his hand through his light blond hair, making his bicep and pec bulge again. "Speaking of time, I was intrigued by your paper on time series forecasting in post-recession investment management. How many quants did you have working for you?"
He was turning the conversation towards our technical background and I went with the flow. I found myself excitedly talking about anything he asked. And yet, when he would abruptly and firmly change the subject, I found that I didn't begrudge the change at all. With anyone else, I would have been miffed, if not downright annoyed.
He himself sat perfectly still, with exception of occasional sips of his wine and some punctuating hand gestures.
At one point, my stomach rumbled in demand for food. I blushed. He completely ignored it. We continued talking.
There was a bump from the floor above.
I paused and my eyes darted up to the ceiling. I looked back at him. He hadn't moved or looked away from me. Though I got the sense that there was a hint of a smile on the corners of his mouth. I sipped some wine, cast one more look up and then resumed the conversation.
It wasn't until exactly at 7pm when he cut off our conversation and led me over to the dining table.
I was served perfectly baked salmon and potatoes. He must've had them in the oven since before I arrived. The timing needed to be precise, as well as the cut and position in the oven.
He served it on both our plates, drizzled it cleanly with a creamy dill dressing, and refilled my wine glass.
We both began our dinner. The taste was exquisite. Like everything else about him. I was shoving forkfuls into my mouth. He was cutting out exact pieces and chewing calmly.
Suddenly there was another sound from upstairs. A door slamming shut.
I looked back at him, this time my brow furrowed in question.
He swallowed the morsel and then actually smiled.
"That's just my ... son," he said. His eyes locked on to mine in a challenge. We both knew that he didn't have a family.
My heart started pounding, my face blushed. I couldn't believe it. The rumours were true?! I wanted to ask, I wanted to- But I didn't have the courage.
"Oh. Okay," I replied nervously. I fidgeted and then realized that I was adjusting my growing cock. I brought my hand back up above the table and kept my eyes on my plate as I ate.
He too resumed eating. The clink of silverware filled silence in the room.
When we were done, he cleaned up the table, rinsed the plates, and put them in the dishwasher.
"A bit of port to wind down?" he asked, reaching for a different bottle. I nodded.
We returned to the living room and he poured out the dessert wine. I realized that the lights had automatically dimmed inside, just as twilight had fully descended outside.
I tried to steer the conversation to his childhood and his background, hoping to find out more about his son. But he deftly turned it right back to my childhood.
"Yes, I was always closer to my mother than my fa-" I stopped mid sentence. There was a creak from the stairs. And then another.
Someone was coming down the stairs to the living room.
I could see in my periphery that Professor Erling's eyes were locked onto mine. But mine were locked onto the stairs.
A bare foot descended onto a step that I could see. Then the second one.
It descended again, and again.
Bare, brown calves came into view.
And then, the thighs. Reddish brown, muscular like an Olympic athlete. Completely smooth, like the rest of the leg.
As the naked upper thighs came into view, I swallowed in anticipation, wondering if this figure was completely naked. I held my breath as the crotch descended.
Blue, red, black net, bulge. It took me a second to process what I was seeing. The bulge was straining against a pair of tight, way too tight and small, spiderman briefs. It looked like the underwear of a 15 year old had been forced onto a man. And when he descended even more, I realized that's exactly what had happened. His shaved crotch was all too visible as the hem of the underwear could not cover much of his hips and groin.
He descended.
His adonis belt came into view. His taut stomach with four easily visible abs. Deliciously brown and smooth. Something big and yellow by his side.
He descended.
His bulging pecs and dark brown nipples came into view. His muscular arms wrapped around a large, yellow stuffed toy. Likely one of those Japanese animated creatures.
He descended onto the living room floor.
A college student. Pure-blooded native American, by the looks of him. Bold, sharp cheekbones. A fanged necklace hanging between his pectoral cleavage. His hair long down to his neck.
I realized that my cock was fully hard.
"Daddy," he said in a soft voice, pitched as high and mewling as he could. "Won't you tuck me in bed and read me a bedtime story?" His eyes looked pleadingly towards Professor Erling, completely ignoring me.
The professor stood up. He looked at me said, "Excuse me, Professor Sherman, but it is time for me to tuck in my little boy." He walked over to the college boy and turned him towards the stairs. With his arm wrapped around the boy's waist, he started to take him up the stairs.
Then he stopped. Turned around. And said to me, "Of course, you are welcome to watch."
He turned back and continued climbing.
I realized my jaw had dropped at some point. I closed my mouth, put down my port with shaking fingers, and stood up. My cock was tenting my pants and there was no way to hide it.
I left the living room and walked up the stairs. The lights behind me dimmed down to total darkness.
I opened wide the door to his son's room. It was covered in superhero posters on every wall. I recognized some GI Joe posters too. And there were shirtless burly men drawn in an oriental style as well.
There was a half finished lego castle in one corner. A lava lamp lit the room. The bed was covered in Aladdin sheets featuring Disney's rendition of the genie. And on top of the sheets was the hot college boy, laying naked with his hard cock pointing up at the cieling, eyes on his daddy.
The professor was carefully putting away the stuffed toy.
Once he was done, he started to unbutton his shirt.
In slow motion, his pale Scandinavian arms and torso came into view. Pecs covered with blond and grey hair. No abs but no sign of a belly either. Not quite as Olympian a build as the college boy, but easily in the 95th percentile of men in their mid forties.
He hooked his fingers on to his pants buttons and unhooked them.
"Have you brushed your teeth?" he asked the college boy sternly.
"Yes, Daddy," the boy replied dutifully.
The professor lowered his pants, his strong, hairy thighs and calves coming into view.
"Have you folded and put away your laundry?"
"Yes, Daddy."
The professor lowered his black boxer briefs to the floor. An eight inch cock, thick, with a purple mushroom head rose up towards the ceiling. I licked my lips.
"Have you done your homework?" he asked.
"Yes, Daddy," the boy replied, with a note of shame in his voice.
As the professor walked slowly to the bed, he spoke without turning to look at me. "Some students in my class think that they can coast by without doing their homework." He clambered on top of the bed, kneeling with his legs on either side of the college boy's torso. "And then they discover that they cannot pass my class without doing their homework." He moved up so that his cockhead was against the lips of the college boy. "A select few of those students get made an offer by me." He put a finger under the base of his cock and slowly dragged it up to the tip. A spurt of precum came gushing out and covered the boy's lips. The boy did not open his lips but waited patiently. "And some of them even take me up on that offer. For one week, they have the honour of being my son." He used his cock to rub the precum all over the college boy's face. "My good little boy." With each word, he smacked his slimed cock on the boy's face. "Open wide for Daddy's pacifier."
Immediately, the college boy opened his mouth, eagerly took the professor's mushroom head into his mouth, and began sucking. The boy's own cock was hard, long, and dripping. But he kept his hands on the professor's thighs.
My own hand went down to my hard cock tenting my pants and squeezed it.
The professor's head snapped in my direction like a whip, and his face darkened.
"Hands off!" he commanded, and my hands flew behind my back, clasping each other. "Only one cock," he continued, "Gets to be pleasured under this roof. If you cannot control yourself, leave!"
Of course I wasn't going to leave. I sputtered some form of apology but his attention was already back to his ... son.
As his boy slowly but eagerly sucked his cockhead, the professor reached over to the bedside shelf and picked up a small children's picture. He opened it up to the first page and began reading.
"Once upon a time, there was a brave, little prince."
He pushed his cockhead deeper into the college boy's mouth.
"The prince's mother ruled over the largest forest in the lands."
One of his hands moved away from the book and rested on the massive, bulging, smooth, brown pec of the college boy.
"One day, the prince decided to run away and explore the forest without any of his royal guards."
He was turning the pages with his thumb as he held the book with one hand.
"The prince saw a beehive. He tried to get the honey, but he only got stung."
He squeezed the boy's pec and pinched his nipple. Precum gushed out from the boy's cock, as he moaned in pleasure.
"The prince saw a salmon jump up from a river. He tried to catch it, but he only gulped down water."
He pushed his cock more than half way in. The boy gagged but the cock just kept going.
"The prince saw a purple mushroom. He tried to eat it, but it only choked him."
He put the book on the bed, to the side. He gripped the boy's head with both hands and skullfucked his student until the gagging boy was frothing at the mouth. For his part, the boy didn't seem to be opposed to it. He was holding on to the professor's thighs for dear life, but it didn't look like he was pushing him back.
The professor removed his cock from the boy's mouth. The boy sputtered and gasped for breath, but then his mouth followed the cockhead's movement like a snake being charmed by a snake charmer.
The professor removed his whole body off the bed. The boy turned over on to his belly, got on all fours, and then moved to hold his ass close to the edge of the bed, likely lined up with the professor's cock. He, and the professor, were both facing me. The professor picked up the book again with one hand while his other hand was out my sight, behind the boy's ass.
"Shall I continue the story, son?"
"Yes, please, Daddy!" he said.
"Mmm... maybe I don't want to continue the story..." His hand behind the boy was moving very slowly, judging by the motion of his arms.
"But it's my favourite story!" the boy whined. "Please, please, pretty please, Daddy, with cherry on top!"
"Hmmm... very well then. Let's see. And then the Prince met a white wolf." His hips thrust forward and the Native American boy gasped.
"The wolf said to the prince, 'Hurry home, little boy, or you will soon get eaten.'" His hips slowly pushed all the way forward until he must've been fully in. The boy's eyes rolled back into his eyes in pleasure as he let out a feral whine.
"The prince replied, 'But this is all my country and one day I will be king!'" The boy breathed in deeply, adjusting to the cock.
"The white wolf felt pity for the prince, but his own hunger was ravening. He pounced on the boy and ate all of him except his heart."
Dropping the book to the floor, the professor grabbed the athletic college boy by his hips with both hands and began to fuck him in earnest. The boy moaned in toe-curling ecstasy as his professor pounded him from behind. Minutes went by as the pair mated in this position. I could see a sheen of sweat on his back and on the professor's chest. They grunted and moaned but no words were exchanged.
The boy started to breathe heavily. Both his hands clutched the sheets around him. He let out one long whine and lowered his head to the bed. His body twitched and jerked.
When his head rose up, I saw that there was cum on the sheets under his belly.
The professor kept rutting. This hips slapping against the boy's ass over and over.
And then the professor went rigid and still. All the veins in his muscles seemed to bulge, but if he was breathing heavily, I couldn't tell.
Then he let out a deep breath, and pulled away from the boy. The boy looked behind over his shoulder and said, "Thank you Daddy for the bedtime story and for Daddy's nighttime milkies!" He got up, gave the professor a kiss on the cheek, grabbed a towel from a dresser, and left the room. I heard the sound of a shower start.
The professor had put on a bathrobe and he headed back down the stairs.
I knew I was to follow, but I just had to check one thing.
I bounded into the now empty room that smelled of sex. I found the children's picture book and opened it to the page where the professor had stopped. I read the words under my breath.
"The wolf took the Prince's heart to the Queen. Weeping, she took the heart and placed it in a wicker puppet. For years after, the kingdom was ruled by the wise but fragile wicker king, and for years after, the white wolf continued devouring any boys that came his way. The End."
I flipped to the cover. "The Prince and the White Wolf" by Erik Erling. I placed it back on the shelf along with many other similar titles. "The Black Swan and the White Wolf" by Erik Erling. "The Lonely Dove and the White Wolf" by Erik Erling.
I hastily left the room and walked back down the stairs.
THE END